


The Cursed Heart

by kopperblaze



Series: Deliver Me Into My Fate [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: BUT WITH A FIX IT EPILOGUE, Baby Durins, Canon Compliant, F/M, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 14:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2696033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kopperblaze/pseuds/kopperblaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"I thought you might need some firewood." </em>
</p><p> </p><p>  <em>Dis blinks. He's brought her firewood. There's been this strange thing going on between them for months and he brings her firewood. </em></p><p> </p><p>  <em>"That's a poor courting gift," she blurts out. The colour in his cheeks rises higher. </em></p><p> </p><p>The life, love and grief of the last princess of Durin's line. </p><p>(aka after writing promptfills featuring Fili's and Kili's father, I couldn't resist exploring the story of him and Dis. Featuring gleeful Dwalin, awkward Thorin, and Fili and Kili growing from dwarflings to princes.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cursed Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This story is canon compliant, BUT in order to console myself I added an epilogue to fix it all. 
> 
> Huge thanks to thegreensorceress for being the best beta and holding my hand and talking me through this <3

The women of Durin’s line are legendary for their beauty.

And their stubbornness.

And their commanding nature.

Dis, daughter of Frey, is a fine embodiment of all the qualities of her line. Beautiful and fierce she is the shining jewel of her people. They wax lyrically about her strong features and selfless kindness, and look to her for guidance in their times of wandering despite her young age. She may be of royal blood, but the Lady Dis is not above sharing her meals with the commoners and lending a hand where needed, and it only adds to her appeal.

But Dis also possesses the temper of her line and the roar of a lioness. She’s been known to make groups of rowdy soldiers remember their manners and council members bend to her every wish.

  
Used to getting her way as one is used to breathing, it comes as a great surprise to Dis when she meets a dwarf who laughs in her face when she - politely - asks him to help her carry home her parcels from the market. She had thought that she’d be able to handle them herself, despite Thorin’s order of iron blocks for the smithy needing picking up, but halfway through Ered Luin she has to admit that she is not up for it after all. This is probably why Dwalin chuckled like a gleeful dwarfling and Thorin frowned more than usual when she firmly told them off for assuming she would not be able to handle going to the market by herself. Dis has spent the past minutes wishing for their beards to fall out, her arms quivering under the weight of her shopping.

  
Spotting a dwarf sitting on a bench outside a house, enjoying the sunshine, she caves and asks for help. And this dwarf, with his sparkling blue eyes and ridiculous moustache braids, has the audacity to laugh at her!

“Nay, lass, I’m just having lunch,” he says cheerfully, taking another bite of his apple and patting the bench next to him. “But you can sit with me and I’ll carry your parcels once I’m finished.”

Dis narrows her eyes. Usually dwarves fall all over themselves to help her, if not for her title then for her smile. She’s not used to agreeing to somebody else’s terms - not that any dwarf has ever spoken to her like this before.

Sitting down next to him with a huff Dis decides that she likes it.

~

Vili is different to any dwarf Dis has ever known. A Broadbeam, raised in the Blue Mountains, he lacks the broodiness of Ereborians, giving his smiles much easier than her people did even before the dragon. He’s kind, and funny, and infuriating in so many ways, telling her to relax when she is stern and making her laugh when she is determined to be grim. He calls her out on her moods. It feels like he sees her, sees just Dis, not her title or her linage.

He makes her angry and yet Dis finds herself seeking out his golden hair in the crowd, marching over just to bicker with him. Her brother and Dwalin watch from the sidelines, like the gossiping dwarrowdams they are, and alternatively laugh (Dwalin) or roll their eyes (Thorin). Despite her fervent wishing, their beards are still full and growing.

“What’s so amusing then?” She spits and stomps past Dwalin, who’s looking far too smug for his own good, into the kitchen. On the way home from the market she’s seen Vili talking with Ionusha, who has the most annoying laugh Dis has ever heard. What business does he have making other dwarrowdams laugh? And why does she even _care_?

“Nothing,” Dwalin replies innocently, pushing away from the doorframe. “I was just thinking that it’s usually the dwarrowdam playing hard to get, not the other way round.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dis says loftily, noting with irritation that Thorin has started dinner already, leaving her without a task to attend to.

Dwalin laughs and clasps Thorin’s shoulder before wandering from the room, humming a rather bawdy drinking song that earned Dis and Frerin a spanking when their mother overheard them singing it. Of course Thorin and Dwalin had been the ones to teach it to them.

“Smug brat,” Dis mutters, stirring the stew and trying to find fault with it.

~

“At this rate ye’re gonna kill the poor bastard with yer glare,” Dwalin grunts and presses a tankard of ale into her hands. Dis doesn’t even bother to reply. It’ll only lead to further teasing whereas when ignored Dwalin will grow bored and go away.

Narrowing her eyes she takes a sip of ale. Vili is sitting across the room with a group of his friends, singing and drinking. He hasn’t looked over at her even _once_ and she’s been sitting here by herself for a good half an hour.

“It’s ridiculous,” she mutters to herself.

“Aye, I’m inclined to agree.”

“I mean, it’s not like I haven’t given him a perfect opportunity.”

“Aye, but yer glare would scare a blind fella away.”

“I mean, does a dwarrowdam have to do everything herself these days?”

Before Dwalin can voice another smart comeback Dis stands and walks across the room with her tankard clutched tightly in her hand. Later she won’t remember what made her do it (probably famous Durin-temper temporarily shoving sanity away) but she pretends to stumble and tips her tankard over, sending its contents down the front of Vili’s tunic. The chatter at the table dies down as Dis regains her balance.

“Oh, I’m so, so sorry,” she murmurs, widening her eyes as she looks at Vili. He frowns down at his wet tunic clinging to his skin and Dis is most definitely not glancing down at his muscled chest. Behaviour like that would be entirely improper for a princess.

“Just a bit of ale, lass, it’ll dry. Don’t worry,” Vili breaks the silence, his eyes twinkling like he knows she did it on purpose. Or where her eyes have strayed.

“Not like you haven’t spilt drink on yourself often enough,” the dwarf next to Vili laughs, clapping his back.

“True,” Vili shrugs and gives Dis a sheepish smile. “I’m more concerned that you’ve lost your drink. Come sit with us and have another?”

Vili doesn’t offer her his chair and Dis has to pull one over from the neighbouring table. She makes a rude gesture behind her back ias she sits down, Dwalin’s grin practically burning in the back of her neck.

~

In the weeks that follow it becomes somewhat of a routine, Dis walking home from the market and joining Vili on the bench outside his house for lunch, before he carries home her parcels, no matter how light they are that day. Not that Dis would ever admit it, but she looks forward to seeing him, planning her day so she'll finish up at the market at just the right time. She finds herself getting agitated when people stop her to chat, every minute she lingers meaning less time in Vili's company. It's ridiculous, really, because she should know better than to behave like a love-sick dwarfling. And yet...and yet all the scolding herself and all the resolutions to stop running after him fly right out of the window the next day when he smiles at her.

Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous. Just like his moustache braids.

~

Despite Thorin's and Dwalin's grumblings Dis insists that a dwarvish diet does not entirely consist of meat, mushrooms and potatoes. She's eyeing a bunch of tomatoes at the market, thinking that they would go well with the bread she baked this morning, when someone bumps into her from behind.

"My apologies, dearie."

Dis turns around to find a dwarrowdam smiling at her, the wrinkles around her cloudy eyes bunching up. Her hair and beard are white as snow but full and carefully braided in a simple, elegant style. Despite her age her cheeks are rosy like those of a lass, her nose strong and straight.

“No harm done, madam,” Dis smiles, taking a step to the side so the dwarrowdam can have a look at the stall as well. Her eyes stay on Dis though and she tilts her head to the side, squinting.

"You're the lass," she beams all of a sudden, wide and happy like Dis is somebody she's been looking for.

"I...excuse me, do I know you?" Dis is fairly certain that she's never seen this dwarrowdam before, but she’s getting the feeling that she should remember her.

“I’m Vila, daughter of Vivian. At your service," the dwarrowdam says with a small bow. "I see you sitting on our bench every day."

All of a sudden Dis feels hot all over, her face burning. That's why those sparkling blue eyes seemed so familiar!

"Of course! Pardon me I did not-"

"Recognise me?" Vila waves her off cheerfully. "No, you wouldn't, sweetling. I've been watching you two from the kitchen window," she says with a mischievous grin and a wink that makes Dis feel like she's been out in the sun for too long.

"Up close you're even prettier," Vila continues, patting Dis' cheek in a fashion that painfully reminds her of her own grandmother, always loving and teasing at the same time.

"I...thank you," Dis stutters out, struggling to regain her composure.

"I can see why my lad is so smitten with you. Though he's a stubborn fool, like the rest of them. All boisterous and the bravest dwarf to ever live, but quivering like flowers when faced with a pretty lass.” Vila ignores the indignant splutter from the vegetable vendor, patting Dis' hand instead. By this point Dis is positive that she's as red as the tomatoes she looked at earlier.

"Oh, I don't know. We're just...friends," she mumbles. "Let me help you with your shopping? Your basket looks heavy." Desperate for a distraction Dis takes the basket from Vila, noting the slight trembling of the dwarrowdams hands.

"My thanks, lassie,” Vila's smile is small and grateful this time, like she knows that she needs help but loathes to admit it. "I only need some potatoes, help me pick some? I'm afraid my eyes are not what they used to be."

Dis realises quickly that Vila is almost blind. She helps her with her shopping, picking out the vegetables for her and making sure the vendors hand her the correct change. She carries Vila's basket and her own, walking slowly and linking her free arm with Vila’s to keep her from stumbling. Vila seems happy enough to fill the silences, telling Dis about her day and complaining that the apples don't taste as sweet as usual this year.

“Amad!” Vili meets in front of their house, looking as upset as Dis has ever seen. “Where have you been? I was about to go out looking for you.”

Vila laughs and squeezes Dis’ hand. “I only went to the market, pup.”

“Amad,” Vili sighs and shakes his head. “I would have gone after work.”

“You work hard enough as it is, love. And I am perfectly fine going to the market by myself.” Vila’s voice brooks no argument. She takes her basket from Dis. “Thank you for bringing me home, jewel. Now you two sit down and enjoy yourselves.”

“I can help you pu-“

“Sit down, Vili!”

Dis watches in amusement as Vili flops down on the bench like a scolded dwarfling.

“Your mother is very-“

“Bossy?”

“I was going to say charming,” Dis laughs, sitting down next to him. Vila’s earlier words still ringing in her ears she glances over at Vili, not entirely sure why her heart is beating so fast. It feels like the new knowledge has changed something between them, shifted a piece into place.

“That. And stubborn,” Vili huffs. “She knows better than to go to the market by herself. But apparently I’m incapable of buying the right kind of apples.” Beneath the exasperation there is the fondness of a longstanding argument.

“I wouldn’t trust you to pick the right kind of apples either,” Dis replies loftily, stretching her feet out and squinting against the sunshine, holding back a smile.

“Oh hold your tongue,” Vili laughs and elbows her side. Dis elbows him right back.

~

Thorin is gone a lot because there’s hardly any work to be had in Ered Luin. Dis has been surrounded by people all her life, she doesn’t know how to fill the spaces where they should be, their tiny house too big and empty. Being alone gives her too much time to think, too much time to miss Frerin and amad and adad. She wakes up in the night from bizarre dreams, and without Thorin moving about or snoring next door the house is as cold and dark as a tomb.

Some days Dis doesn’t even care to cook, nibbling on stale bread or a piece of dry meat instead. It’s a bitterly cold winter but more often than not she can’t stand to light a fire, unable to look at the dancing flames when memories are still haunting her. As a child she loved nothing more than to sit in front of the hearth, letting the fire’s warmth turn her cheeks red. She still longs for that warmth, but these days when she sits too close to the fire she can smell burnt flesh.

A knock on the door cuts through the silence, drawing Dis from contemplating the empty fireplace. She pulls her shawl tighter around her shoulders and walks to the door, wondering who’s stopping by. For all the people greeting her in the streets, she doesn’t get many visitors.

It’s snowing again, thick flakes falling to the ground and shimmering in Vili’s hair where they catch on the golden strands. He's got a basket on his back and a sheepish smile on his face, colour high on his cheeks from the cold.

"I thought you might need some firewood."

Dis blinks. He's brought her firewood. There's been this strange thing going on between them for months and he brings her firewood, of all things.

"That's a poor courting gift," she blurts out before she can keep her mouth from forming such stupid words. The colour in his cheeks rises higher.

"Well, suppose not. But if you froze to death it'd complicate matters, so I'd like to prevent that if your ladyship allows."

Dis huffs and steps aside.

"Sweet Mahal, lass, it's freezing in here." Vili put his basket down and rubbed his gloved hands together, forehead creased in a frown.

"The fire went out earlier and I didn't get around to restocking it," Dis lies, ignoring his disbelieving stare. Let him think what he wants. He's not of Erebor, he won’t understand.

"Good thing I came by then," Vili decides and sets about restocking her fireplace.

"There, that's better." He stands up with a self-satisfied smile once the fire is cackling merrily, brushing his hands off in his trousers.

"Thank you, though I could've done that myself."

"Sure," Vili agrees. His smile fades a little as he shifts from one foot to the other, fidgeting.

"What?" Dis asks. "Do you need the outhouse?"

"What? No!" The colour in Vili's cheeks is most definitely not from the cold anymore. "I just wanted to ask....well...Amad would like to invite you to dinner. So...do you wanna come to dinner?"

Of all the things Dis expected him to say, this wasn't one of it.

"I...I would be honoured." She isn't hungry, but if she declines she might as well resign herself to never being social with Vili ever again. The smile he rewards her with makes warmth spread through Dis’ cold body.

"I gotta go and get some more wood, but if you come over to mine in about an hour all should be ready."

Dis nods, faintly thinking that an hour is just enough time to bring her beard and hair back in order and select a nice gown.

~

Unlike her own house that of Vili is full of warmth and life, the mouth-watering scent of a home-cooked meal wafting through the air. The house itself is cluttered, heirlooms and woven matts on the walls, woven baskets full of trinkets standing around. Dis remembers Vili telling her that his mother used to be a weaver, thinks about how gnarled Vila’s hands are, stiff after a lifetime of nimble moves. The throws and blankets on the chairs by the fire are hand-knitted and well-loved, the furniture chipped and worn in places. This isn’t the house of wealthy people, not by material means anyway. But it is so lived in and comfortable, full of warmth, that Dis thinks she might prefer it over a palace.

Vila firmly declines any help Dis offers, instead ordering Vili around and reigning over her kitchen with all the grace and authority of a queen. In no time at all the roast is on the table and Vila orders them to sit down.The spices they use in the Blue Mountains are different to the ones Dis grew up with in Erebor, but the meal holds all the warmth of food prepared by mothers, filling the belly and wrapping the soul in warmth.

“It’s absolutely delicious, Vila. Thank you again for inviting me,” Dis smiles between bites, finding herself ravenous, like her hunger has returned along with her feelings.

“You’re very welcome, my darling,” Vila beams at her. “Lamb roast was Nain’s favourite.”

Dis can’t deny that she’s been curious about Vili’s father. So far she has refrained from asking about him though, knowing from her own experience how much she hates questions about her family members that have returned to the stone.

“Was it?” She murmurs, noting that while Vila is smiling wistfully her son is frowning down at his plate.

“Aye. I used to make it for him every Sunday, unless he annoyed me. He’d frown and say ‘It’s Sunday, Vila, why’s there bangers and mash? Don’t you love me anymore?’” Vila chuckles, her bony fingers curling around Dis’. “And when Vili was born he’d tell him ‘You behave yourself, son, and don’t make your amad mad or there won’t be no lamb roast on Sunday’.” She’s looking off into the distance and suddenly Dis feels like she’s intruding on memories that are private.

Vili still hasn’t looked up from his plate.

“Died on a hunting trip, my Nain, when Vili was but knee-high, barely out of his diapers. I didn’t make lamb roast for a long time after that.Tthere was nobody to eat it,” Vila sighs and shakes her head. “No child should have to grow up without a father.”

“We did fine by ourselves though, mama,” Vili interrupts. Despite his gentle, nonchalant tone the lines around his eyes are tense, his jaw set tightly. Dis is an orphan, but at least both of her parents saw her grow up. With his father dying so young a piece of Vili’s life puzzle has always been missing. As Dis watches Vila reach out and squeeze Vili’s hand she vows that her children will never know such loss.

~

When word reaches her that there’s been an accident in the mines Dis’ stomach turns. It takes several moments before she’s got her breathing back under control. Abandoning the potatoes she was peeling for dinner she runs out of the door without taking off her apron.

Vili’s arm is in a sling but he’s laughing with his mates in front of the pub. The sight of it enrages her so much that she’s slapped him before either of them know what’s happening. “Don’t you _ever_ worry me so much again,” she hisses before turning and stomping back to her house, leaving a group of gawking dwarves behind. She has dinner to prepare and she’ll be damned if she’ll let him see her cry while he’s laughing.

~

After two weeks of awkward greetings and Dis treating him coldly as anger and an even more conflicting emotion still burn in her chest, Vili shows up on her doorstep with a wooden box.

“I know you’re still angry with me, but believe it or not I actually had a reason for going deeper into the mines than I should have,” he says, before holding the box out with his good hand. Its simple, the wood polished to a smooth finish and a band of flowers carved around the edges. Dis can hear her blood rushing in her ears as she opens it. Bedded in rich blue brocade lies a dagger, the blade shiny and sharp, the handle made of smooth malachite with chrysocolla inlays. A lapis lazuli, cut into a perfect round shape, tops the handle.

“It’s taken me a few months to get it perfect and all, but I guess its better than firewood?” Vili’s voice comes out uncharacteristically soft and he rubs the back of his neck. Dis traces a finger over the smooth handle of the dagger before raising her eyes. In this moment both of them have put away the layers of easy-going confidence they usually wear.

“It’s beautiful.”

Vili’s smile is brilliant and Dis’ heart skips a beat. She knows with sudden certainty that she wants to claim that smile as her own, never to be bestowed upon anybody else ever again.

“Does this mean you’ll accept it then?” He asks, the teasing edge returning to his tone. Dis rolls her eyes but can’t keep the smile off her face as she nods.

His smiling lips against hers make her feel like maybe there is happiness in her future after all.

~

“You did what?” Dis practically feels the blood heating up in her veins as she stares at Thorin, who casually runs the tip of a knife under his dirty fingernails.

“I had a little chat with that miner you intend to marry.”

“His name is Vili,” she hisses. Ever since she told him they were courting Thorin seems determined to not call Vili by his name. “And what exactly did you talk to him about, dear brother?”

He shrugs and inspects his nails. “This and that.”

“This and that?” Dis repeats, starting to feel like a bristling bull, her nostrils flaring as she does her best to not rip the dagger from his fingers and take it to his braids.

“This and that,” Thorin nods.

“Let me make something perfectly clear.” Plucking the dagger from his fingers Dis puts it down on the table with more force than necessary. “If you scared Vili off I’ll be shaving you in your sleep until you’re hairless as a babe.”

Thorin blanches a little at her words, but Dis has no time to enjoy the sight of it as she marches out of the house. She finds Vili in the pub, sitting slouched in a corner and blinking slowly.

“What did he say to you?”

He raises his head slowly and smiles drunkly at her. “Good afternoon ta you, lassie.”

Rolling her eyes, Dis sits down next to him and fixes her eyes on him. “What did my brother say to you?”

Vili shrugs. “There was talk o’ broken bones and shovels and foxes and he acted all kingly and important. Was a bit awkward. But then there was ale, so I suppose it’s all right.”

Dis barely resists the urge to bash her (or Vili’s) head against the wall. Dwarves!

That Sunday she serves steamed vegetables for dinner. Thorin doesn’t say a word but chews each mouthful with hateful intensity.

~

In Erebor the ladies of royalty received nothing short of extraordinary courting gifts: glittering jewellery and exotic goods from the markets in Dale, perfumes and chocolates and silks. Dis receives flowers, sweet apples, soft wool from the market and intricately carved cups made out of wood. She wouldn’t trade them for world. Vili took the time to go and pick flowers with her in mind and carved the cups himself and it makes them worth more than anything money could buy. Sometimes he whisks her away from her chores and they’ll lie side by side in the high grass for hours, watching the sky. Sometimes they talk and sometimes they bask in each other’s company like one basks in the warming rays of the sun. Vili’s hand will inevitably find hers, and they’ll hold hands until the sun sets.

She does not want to wait another winter, so on a sunny day late in autumn she walks to the sacred stone in a finely spun dress of blue that Thorin bought her, no doubt using up all his savings, her hair braided in the style of her mother and the necklace her father made for her when she came off age around her throat. In the morning Thorin had presented her with four hairclasps made of silver, delicate designs etched into them that resembled each other and were yet unique. “One for you and one for each of your children,” he had said with the bashful smile of his youth that she hadn’t seen in years. It was well known that each generation of Durin’s line was made up of three siblings, and as Dis hugged Thorin tight enough to make him complain she imagined Frerin laughing at them in the corner.

Vili’s hair is neater than Dis has ever seen (though his moustache braids are still ridiculous), shining golden in the sun. He’s wearing a fine red tunic which makes him look positively regal, and when he sees her approaching he stands up straighter. It’s so easy to imagine him as a prince in Erebor’s halls and suddenly it flits through Dis’ mind that her mother would have adored Vili and her father would have delighted in teasing him. It’s silly, but until now it hadn’t crossed her mind that her parents are never going to meet her husband and her second brother is robbed of all chances to make fun of them.

As if sensing her distress Thorin pulls her a little closer, turning questioning eyes on her. “Having second thoughts?” He whispers and she knows that if she so much as nodded he would whisk her away with no questions asked. Looking ahead her shoulders sink and her lips twitch involuntarily into a smile as she watches Vili’s fingers flexing as he tries not to fidget. She shakes her head and lets her brother lead her into her new life.

~

Dis remembers precious little of the ceremony except for Vili’s warm hand holding hers tightly. She had barely listened to the official, the blood rushing loudly in her ears as her heart beat faster upon the thought that this was it, the beginning of her own family. Maybe after all these years of hardship she has finally found home, found a pocket of happiness in this world.

With the ceremonial part of the day over the village’s pub is soon alive with cheer. Dwalin beats all of the villages dwarves foolish enough to challenge him to arm wrestling without so much as breaking a sweat, holding a tankard in his free hand.

“Oi, Dis’ husband! Wanna give it a go?” He shouts through the pub with a teasing glint in his eyes that has Dis grin into her tankard while Vili swallows nervously.

“Eh, ye’re right. Gotta live with Dis ‘nd all, I’ll go easy on ya today.”

“Cheers, Dwalin!” Vili raises his tankard before taking a gulp.

“You’re such an wuss,” Dis comments cheerfully, kicking his leg under the table. Vili kicks her right back without any consideration for dusty boot prints on her fine dress.

“I just don’t want Dwalin to break my fingers on my wedding day. If that makes me an wuss then fine, I am an wuss.”

“I’m glad you’re finally admitting to that,” Thorin says as he sits down next to Vili, clapping his back. Vili groans in response and nurses his tankard, knowing better than to give them more material to tease him with. Dis takes pity on him and stands up to get them another round from the bar. It’s getting late and the songs are growing lewder as the guests grow rowdier.

“Lass, ye gotta come with me now.”

Dis groans and shakes her head. “Dwalin, I thought we agreed not to do this.”

It was a common enough tradition in Erebor, a group of the bride’s friends stealing her away from the celebrations and taking her to one of the pubs, raking up a bill the husband had to settle when he eventually found her. Dis has no girlfriends in the Blue Mountains to speak of and there is only one pub anyway, so the entire thing seems a little pointless.

“Sorry, did I phrase tha’ as a question? Because it wasn’t.” Dwalin grabs her arm and pulls her through the crowd and out the backdoor. The cold air is a shock to her system after the heat of bodies and drink inside. “Where are we even going?” She stumbles blindly after him as he pulls her away from the village and towards the forest.

“Don’t worry, we got everythin’ set up.”

“We?”

“Why, Thorin an’ me, o’ course. Didn’t think yer brother would stay out of this, did ye?” Dwalin looks back at her over his shoulder and grins. “But someone had ta stay behind as distraction.”

Using Thorin as a distraction is so ridiculous that Dis doesn’t hold back on the laughter bubbling up as she thinks about her brother and her husband ( _her husband!_ ) trying to make conversation. Thorin isn’t a great talker at the best of times and Vili gets awkward and tries to fill silences, babbling pointlessly. She almost regrets not being there to witness it.

The large keg Dwalin’s managed to pilfer from Mahal knows where and hid in a hollowed out tree trunk chases her regrets away quickly enough. They sit down in the grass and Dis, knowing that it’ll be a while before Vili finds them, leans back against the tree trunk and gets comfortable. Thorin’s qualities as entertainer will have Vili looking for her soon enough, but even then he’ll have to figure out which direction they went in.

“Here’s ta you then, lass.” Dwalin presses a cup into her hands. Clinking his own against it he holds it there for a moment. “I truly wish ye all the happiness in the world. Ye deserve it.” The moment of sentiment is broken before Dis can comment on it as Dwalin takes a gulp of ale. “Never thought I’d see lil’ Dis getting married. Seems like yesterday ye were runnin’ around in breeches, bossin’ us around and makin’ all ta lads cry.”

“You needed somebody sensible around to keep you lot in order,” Dis laughs.

“Sensible, aye,” Dwalin chuckles. “T’was very sensible what we did ta Thorin with the chicken and the corn.”

“He told adad about the incident with the ponies, he deserved punishment,” Dis replies, grinning at the memories. They have years of hardship on their shoulders, but their childhoods were brilliant. They sit and look up at the sky, relieving memories, making good work on emptying the keg.

“Dis!” Vili is stumbling through the dark, falling into the grass next to her without grace nor care. “You…you’re a cruel creature. You and Dwalin both,” he points out, taking her cup and draining it.

“I know,” Dis chuckles, plucking a leaf from his hair and running her fingers through the soft strands. “You held out longer than I expected.”

“He wouldn’t let me leave!” Vili whines, head falling back against the tree trunk with a thud. “You know what’s even scarier than Thorin being Thorin? Thorin _trying_ to make conversation.”

Dwalin guffaws while Dis bites back her own laughter.

“What did you two talk about for so long?”

“The weather!” Vili throws up his arms before holding his cup out to Dwalin for a refill. “We had a brilliant conversation about the weather and where to get firewood this winter.”

“Sounds thrilling. How’d you manage to escape?”

That makes Vili grin, his teeth glinting in the moonlight. “Mama is sitting with him now.”

This time Dis can’t hold back her laugh. “Well, at least that means he only has to listen. Your amad likes to talk.”

“Aye. When I left she’d just started telling him about the chicken that keeps invading the garden.”

They sit for a while longer before Dwalin shifts and struggles to his feet.

“Well, I’ll be leavin’ youse two an’ see how Thorin’s doin’. Don’t stay out here too long.”

“We’re married, Dwalin. We can stay out here as long as we damn well please.”

“All I’m sayin’ is that pine needles up yer arse are, well, a pain in the arse, so ye may wanna be avoidin’ that.”

Patting the ground around her Dis finds a pinecone and throws it at Dwalin’s retreating back. Vili huffs and lays down with his head in her lap and she continues to comb her fingers through her hair. Out here in the darkness with Mahal’s jewels shining above them, it feels like they are the only two dwarves left on Arda.

~

Fall turns into winter and Dis is never cold or lonely anymore. Their little home is warm and cosy and at night Vili next to her is like a furnace, forever complaining about her cold feet and the icy tip of her nose, but holding her close anyway, kissing her skin until she’s warm.

Winter turns into spring turns into summer turns into fall and Dis is happier than she remembers being since these long gone days of her childhood. The shadows of the past lie behind her, unable to haunt her when her husband makes her laugh and when her brother smiles his small smiles again. He’s not complete and he never will be again, but he isn’t broken anymore either. It’s taken years, but her and Dwalin and Balin put his pieces back together as best as they could.

The next winter comes and goes and Dis keeps her pregnancy secret until it’s more than a suspicion making her heart beat faster. When she tells Vili he gapes at her like a fish before breaking into the widest smile she’s ever seen and crushing her against his broad chest, bestowing kisses on her face.

They go to tell his mother together and Vila smiles like she has known all along, hugging the both of them. “Now, lassie, we have much to talk about. Why don’t you come for tea when the lads are going hunting this coming Saturday?”

“We’re going hunting?” Vili asks in confusion, looking at Dis with a raised eyebrow, as if she keeps track of his agenda (she does).

“You are now,” Vila huffs impatiently. “Deer is good food for mothers and babes. Makes them grow healthy and strong.”

Dis smiles and squeezes Vila’s hand, unspeakably glad to have a female by her side to see her through this. She hadn’t minded growing up among males, her own amad dying of a weak heart when Dis was but a dwarfling, but there are times in every dwarrowdams life where she wishes for the advice and support of an older female instead of always having to figure everything out herself.

The next day she invites Thorin, Dwalin and Balin over for dinner, but has her brother come by earlier under the pretence of needing one of her pots fixed.

“Don’t you have a husband who can do this?” Thorin asks as stomps into the kitchen, bringing with him the smell of early spring air.

“He’s a miner, not a blacksmith,” Dis replies as she always does. It’s a longstanding argument that all of them keep up solely for the sake of habit. Truth be told,  
Dis would be more worried if one day Thorin stopped teasing Vili. As it is they get along like brothers, bickering and arguing and going for a pint when time allows.

Thorin grunts and looks around. “Where’s the pot then? If you need it for dinner I need to get working.”

“Actually, my pots are fine,” Dis grins, thoroughly enjoying the irritated look on Thorin’s face.

“Why did you have me come over then?”

She looks at him for a few more seconds, her lips twitching. Eventually she can’t suppress her smile as she reaches out to take his hand.

“I had you come over because I have something important to tell you.”

Thorin narrows his eyes. Just as her he always assumes the worst, always waits for the other shoe to drop. It’s why she waited so long to tell Vili about the pregnancy, scared that she wasn’t allowed such happiness, that something terrible would happen if she told too soon.

“Oh don’t look like that, brother. It’s nothing terrible,” she laughs, squeezing his hand. “I’m with child.”

He blinks and then he smiles, that wonderful smile she so rarely sees, and his fingers tighten around hers until it hurts. “Truly?”

Dis nods, her own eyes tearing up with happiness as Thorin brings her hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. The moments in which he looks young and happy are so few that Dis makes a fervent wish that her child will make him smile like this every day. (And Fili does, drawing smiles, big and small, from his uncle until the day Thorin howls like a dying animal over the broken body of his nephew falling in front of his eyes.)

She tells Dwalin and Balin after dinner. Balin, ever proper and holding onto the old ways, bows and says: “Blessed be you and your child, my princess.” Then abandons all protocol and hugs her. Vili teasingly calls her princess for the rest of the evening.

Dwalin, on the other hand, groans and rolls his eyes up skywards. “First we’ll have ta put up with even more of yer moods, and then there’ll be a lil brat running around that the two o’ ya created.” His bone-crushing hug belies his words though and he slaps Vili so hard on the back her husband almost falls out of his chair.

~

The dwarves in her family develop a disconcerting obsession with her growing belly. Vili has taken to sleeping with his hands on her stomach and no matter which way she turns, his palms will find the expanding stretch of skin. Sometimes it feels like the warmth of his palms lingers on her skin until noon. When he leaves for work he not only says his goodbyes to Dis but bends down to plant a kiss on her belly as well, whispering to their little one. Dis acts annoyed and shoos him away, but is incapable of keeping a straight face as she does so.

Dwalin takes to patting her belly whenever he sees her, asking how the wee beast is doing. Thorin, on the other hand, is not a touchy person by nature and instead keeps a close eye on how much her belly grows, how much she eats, and when she eats. He is annoying in his protectiveness, treating her like she’s made out of glass, but she can’t begrudge him for it.

~

When her son comes into the world, on a sunny day in fall, Dis remains strangely calm as she watches her lads fall apart with nerves. Vila, who is thankfully there with her, throws them out when the midwife arrives, sending them to the pub with instructions to not return until she calls for them.

Dis has been told that her first labour will be the hardest, but like he’ll continue to do all his life, her oldest son makes things easy for her. The birth is quick, without complications, and after only a few hours Dis is holding her baby boy in her arms, staring at him in wonder. He’s got tufts of blonde hair, chubby cheeks and a strong pair of lungs. It seems that he merely wishes to inform the world briefly of his arrival though, quietening down after a few shrill cries and looking up at her with unfocused eyes. Dis cries and smiles, kissing his wrinkly forehead.

“Welcome in the world, my sweet. You’re loved very much,” she whispers, relishing the moments she has with him alone before she hears the sound of heavy boots thumping up the stairs. “That’ll be your papa.”

Vili throws the door open but stops in the doorway, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to come in. Dis rolls her eyes and pats the bed next to her. “Sometimes he’s a moron,” she whispers to Fili, smiling when he kicks his legs. Vili sits down next to her and stares down at Fili in wonder, blinking rapidly. Fili stares back and Dis wants to laugh at their matching expressions of confusion.

“He’s real, you know?”

Vili nods without looking at her. Eventually he reaches out and strokes a finger down Fili’s cheek. The baby waves his arms and his little fingers latch onto his father’s finger. They stay like that for the rest of the day, Fili only whimpering and starting to cry when Vili attempts to pull away. As long as his father holds him he’s content.

“That’s what you get for having your hands on my belly all the time,” Dis points out eventually with a laugh, watching Fili’s face scrunch up when Vili taps his nose. Her husband shrugs, clearly not minding at all.

~

Fili is an uncomplicated and healthy child, Dis’ pride and joy. She thought she knew love before, but it all pales in comparison to what she feels for Fili, her darling boy. The happy noises he makes in the morning when she picks him up from his cradle, the way he twists his tiny fists in her dress, make her feel like her heart is going to burst with emotion. He brings joy to the lives of others as well, making his grandmother beam and Thorin coo. Dwalin, the first time he holds him, looks so awkward that Vili, Dis, and even Thorin burst out laughing.

“Ye hear that, Fili? They’re laughin’ at us,” he huffs, looking down at the Fili, who stares up at him and blows a spit bubble. “Aye, well said,” Dwalin smiles at the babe before raising his head to glare at the adults again.

~

Sometimes Dis thinks that Vili is trying to make up for the absence of a father in his own childhood. He’s forever patient and includes Fili in everything he does, their little boy trailing behind him from the moment Vili comes home from work. They adore each other and it comes as no surprise that Fili’s first word is “Da!” as he happily puts his palms on Vili’s cheeks.

She wonders if she should be jealous, but her lads bring her home flowers from their adventures in the forest, or red berries from the market that Fili insisted they buy because they are her favourites (and really, all he has to say is “Mama!” before Vili gets his coin purse) and faced with two matching smiles, all Dis feels is eternal love.

~

Fili is three when Dis finds herself pregnant again. This time it’s a lot more difficult. The morning sickness lasts for months and she feels drained and dizzy. Vili and Thorin help her out as much as possible, and where she would have scoffed at the idea of Thorin cooking dinner while she rested in bed, she’s now grateful for her brother’s help. Fili starts clinging to her, his small fist holding tightly onto her skirts. She hates that she worries him, but some days she doesn’t have the energy to put on a smile.

When they explain to him that it’s his brother or sister growing in her stomach he scrunches up his nose, like he always does when thinking hard. It’s yet another habit that he shares with Vili. After a few tense moments in which both, her and Vili hold their breaths for his reaction, Fili steps forward and puts his little hands on her belly.

“‘lo.”

From there on out he keeps up babbling conversations with the babe and there is scarcely a time when Dis can sit down without Fili putting one of his wooden toys on her belly so the baby can play too. It’s endearing and yet Dis is glad when Thorin or Dwalin take Fili out to play so she can rest properly.

Just as her pregnancy, giving birth is difficult. She spends two days in agony with Vila holding her hand, Vili and Thorin doing their best to keep Fili busy and not let their worries show. She knows before she sees him that her second son is more Durin than Broadbeam. He certainly has the stubbornness of their line, refusing to come into the world and when he eventually does screaming to the high heavens about it.

He’s smaller than Fili was, but just as perfect, with a tuft of brown hair and wide, curious eyes. She traces his small features, looking up when she hears two sets of boots on the stairs this time.

“That’ll be your papa and your brother. Are you excited to meet them?”

Vili looks like he hasn’t slept in days and Fili hides behind his legs, peering out at them.

“Are you all right?” The lack of teasing names, the hard line of Vili’s lips, tell her just how worried he must have been about her.

“We’re fine. This one is just as stubborn as a mule,” she says with a smile, trying to reassure her lost lads. “Fili, do you want to meet your brother?”

Fili bites his bottom lip but eventually shuffles over to the bed. Vili lifts him up so he can sit next to Dis and he curiously peers at the bundle in her arms.

“His name is Kili.”

“Hello Kili,” Fili whispers, shifting to his knees so he can see better. Vili sits down on the other side of the bed and Dis leans against his broad chest, exhausted and in pain but content and happy all the same.

“You’re unbelievable, lass. I was so worried,” Vili whispers and kisses her temple.

“Because you’re a wuss,” she replies, not letting on how scared she had been herself.

Fili reaches out and pokes Kili’s cheek gently, causing the baby to coo. Fili beams in turn, chest puffing out.

“Why don’t you show him what you and your uncle made for him, Fee?” Vili suggests. For a second Fili presses his cheek to his shoulder, like he always does when he’s feeling shy, before picking up a stuffed animal and holding it out to Kili. Its blue with buttons sown on wonkily for eyes and a nose.

“Oh it’s lovely, sweetling,” Dis takes it from Fili and holds it out for Kili, who waves his hands to grab it. “What…what is it?”

Vili hides a grin against her hair while Dis prays that she has not upset Fili by being unable to identify his and Thorin’s creation.

“A me!” Fili declares with a grin, which is not exactly helpful. (When Kili starts speaking he declares the toy to be his ‘Feefee’ and that’s that.)

“Oh of course, how didn’t I see that,” Dis replies seriously. “And you made that? All by yourself?”

Fili nods, his blond curls flying. “Me. And unca help.”

“You did a great job. Look, Kili thinks so too.” The baby is sucking on one of the wonky ears, eyes half-closed in content.

~

The brothers take to each other so quickly that even Dis is surprised. Fili will patiently sit with Kili in his lap and let the baby tug his hair, telling him stories and making plans of what they will do together once Kili is a little bigger. He still trails after Vili whenever his father is around, but now when they return from their adventures Fili will bring flowers not only for Dis but for Kili as well. Fili delights in holding them to Kili's nose so he can smell them, the babe giggling and kicking his legs in glee like he wants to show his appreciation for his brother's presents.

They are like two sides of a coin, one light and one dark, both of them only complete with the other around. Fili soothes Kili when he cries and Kili makes Fili laugh louder than Dis has ever heard.

It seems that Mahal has rewarded her after all the hardships of her life. And yet Dis can't help but think that it won't last.

~

Kili's first word is "Ma!" and Dis couldn't be more pleased. She had half expected that it would be "Fi." But it's Ma, and as her boys grow older Dis laughs along with Dwalin when he comments that her and Vili have gained miniature versions of themselves. Fili holds his father's hand while Kili clutches his mother's skirts.

"Adad adad adad!" Fili jumps up from his place in front of the hearth and races to the front door, Kili stumbling after him on chubby legs.

"Da da da!"

There's a commotion for a few minutes before Vili shuffles in, moving much like Dis imagines an ent would, a dwarfling clinging to each leg.

“Oi, lass, seems I acquired some leeches on the way home. Hope it’s all right if they stay?”

She laughs and shakes her head, going back to peeling potatoes for the stew. With her lads around she can't imagine that there once was a time when laughter didn't come to her so easy.

~

Her brother adores her boys although he is still slightly awkward around them, unprepared for Fili’s inquisitive nature and Kili’s loud demands for attention that their own grandfather would’ve never tolerated. But he listens to them earnestly, like their babblings about discovering a hedgehog in the garden are the most important news, and patiently answers all of Fili’s questions while letting Kili play with his hair. He tells them stories of Erebor by the fire during the long winter nights and if Dis notices the way Vili’s jaw sets she doesn’t comment on it.

She knows that he has no understanding of the way of her people and she doesn’t fault him for it, the same way she doesn’t fault Thorin for his attachment to the past. Sometimes it isn’t easy, being caught between the two of them, but Dis likes to think that she has found a precarious balance. She wants her sons to be aware of their heritage, but she also wants them to grow up free of the expectations that Thorin fought to meet from the day he was born. It works out, her brother raising Fili as he would his heir - between him and Balin there is more playfulness in his education than there was in hers or Thorin’s or Frerin’s - while her husband takes him on adventures and encourages him to get into mischief.

It is strange then, that despite everything Fili grows up to look like his father and behave like his uncle, while Kili grows more similar to Thorin in looks and to Vili in character. Her oldest worries and her youngest laughs. Dis wonders if her third child will be a daughter, a little girl with wild hair and a reckless temper like herself.

~

When Fili asks, Vili braids his hair and fastens it with the wooden beads he himself wore as a dwarfling. Dis pulls a face once Fili has dashed off to show Kili.

“Oi, lass. Not all of us were growing up with gems being thrown our way,” Vili points out, lightly shoving her shoulder. “My da told me that if I didn’t lose them I’d get proper grown-up silver ones. Taught me a lesson to take care of my possessions.”

Like so often when his husband tells her stories of his childhood, Dis feels humbled and suddenly very aware of how protected her upbringing truly was, no matter the hardships that followed. There were beads aplenty in Erebor for the royal children, made of the finest mithril, engraved and set with gemstones. She frequently lost them as a child and never thought twice of it. There were always more to be had.

Fili takes care of his beads as if they are the most precious things in the world. (He will end up wearing them for far longer than Thorin considers proper, refusing Erebor’s heirloom beads that his uncle gifts him with. And even once he starts wearing them he will always keep a braid of moaning hidden in his hair, clasped with a wooden bead) Kili is, naturally, jealous, but quickly decides that he doesn’t care too much about beads and braids after alll when Dis sits him down and puts them in his hair. Vili gifts him with a wooden dwarf soldier instead, which Kili carries with him everywhere for months, refusing to be parted from it even at bath time.

~

In hindsight Dis thinks that she was monumentally stupid, expecting tragedy to announce itself. There is no sense of foreboding, no clouds in the sky, nothing but sunshine and birds chirping in joy over the arrival of spring. She goes about her chores, humming to herself as she prepares dinner, while Kili plays with his toys, babbling to himself, and Fili practices his runes.

It’s a day like any other and Dis is blissfully unaware that her world is about to fall apart once more. They eat dinner and she puts the boys down for their nap. She’s just cleaning the dinner pots, Vili’s portion set aside, when there is a knock on the door.

“Thorin, what are you-“ One look at her brother’s face and Dis’ tongue feels three times thicker, her words dying in her throat. The look on Thorin’s face is unlike anything she can remember seeing, tense and sad and somehow…pitiful. Her stomach roils.

“What…what happened?” And there it is now, the sense of foreboding, panic spreading through her body and commanding her to run. If he never speaks she’ll never know.

“Where are the boys?” Thorin asks lowly as he shoulders past her into the house.

“They’re asleep.” Dis briefly glances over her shoulder, finding both her lads curled up in front of the hearth where they always take their afternoon nap, Kili steadfastly refusing to take it anywhere else or without his brother.

“Good. Good,” Thorin replies absently, stroking his beard. “Let’s go sit.” He doesn’t sit down at the table but makes for her bedroom. Dis stumbles after him, feeling like her years have been stripped away and she is a girl again, toddling after her brother in confusion.

“Thorin, tell me already or I swear I will-“

“Sit,” Thorin commands and there’s an edge to his voice that has her snap her mouth shut instead of unleashing a tirade on him about refraining from assuming for one minute that he is in a position to command her. Instead she sits down, fiddling with her skirt, and looks up at him.

“What?”

He paces and avoids her eyes and Dis tastes bile. She twists her fingers in her skirt until her knuckles hurt.

“There…there was an accident,”Thorin says, visibly composing himself before he looks at her. “Down in the mines.”

Her world comes to a painful halt and for a few seconds there is silence, absolute and utterly terrifying silence. It feels like she is frozen, her mind comprehending the words, her heart refusing to believe them. It becomes difficult to breathe and her hands start shaking.

“Did…did he break his arm again?” Dis asks and her voice sounds very far away. Deep down she already knows that this time it’s more serious than that. Thorin would mock Vili for a broken arm, not come and inform her so solemnly.

“No,” Thorin shakes his head and there is that look again, pity and pain. “Dis, there was nothing they could do.”

She chokes and her vision blurs. She’s barely aware of stumbling to her feet and striking Thorin, who lets her.

“No! How…how can you say that?!”

He catches her fists before she can hit him again, pulls her close against his broad chest and suddenly she’s sobbing as the world falls apart around her. She barely registers Thorin holding her close, but she’s grateful that he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t offer empty phrases that have no meaning to her as her heart is ripped to shreds. She vaguely thinks that she needs to be quiet or she’ll wake the lads, but it only makes her cry harder. How is she supposed to explain to them that their adad will not come home to them tonight or any other night? How…how is she supposed to survive this?

Her home has been burnt, her family slaughtered, and yet Dis trudged on, facing the obstacles thrown her way, never allowing anything to be impossible. Now she’s empty, feeling like she has no strength left, like she can’t go on, can’t ever again move from this room and face the world. Why is she here when he is gone? Why has he gone where she can’t follow?

The following days are a blur, stretching the span of an eternity and the blink of an eye. She lies in bed and stares at the wall, her eyes puffy and sore and her cheeks feeling taut with dried tears. Her bed is too big, too cold, and none of it is right. Thorin shoulders the burden of telling the boys and Dis is so far gone she doesn’t even feel guilty about adding to the already impressive weight on her brother’s shoulders. When she eventually stops sobbing and whining like a dying animal and goes into empty stillness he brings them up to see her.

They look so confused and scared, their hair messy and their eyes puffy that Dis’ heart constricts, reminding her that she is alive yet, that she needs to think about her boys. They crawl into bed and cling to her and she clings back, letting them ground her and remind her that there are parts of her heart still intact. Kili doesn’t understand what is going on but the sombre mood scares him and he cries while Fili looks at her so desperately she wants to claw her eyes out.

“Uncle…uncle said adad has gone to Mahal’s Halls. Can…can we not go and visit him there?” He asks and Dis fails at keeping a straight face, her lips twisting as she chokes.

“No, sweetling, we can’t. Not yet.” She’s angry then, angry because it isn’t fair. She shouldn’t have to explain this to her children, shouldn’t have to burden them with such knowledge. Not until they are older.

Fili’s brows furrow in confusion and he drops his head to her shoulder, his tiny fingers clutching her dress. “So we won’t ever see him again?” He whispers and his tears burn her skin where they fall.

“You will see your adad again.” Thorin saves her from having to answer, sitting down at the edge of the bed and putting his hand on Fili’s back. “When you go to the maker’s halls yourself. But that won’t be for a long, long while. Not until you’ve grown old and grey.”

“Adad wasn’t old and grey,” Fili points out, looking up at Thorin with eyes full of tears and pleading, childish hope. Dis turns her head and closes her eyes so she won’t have to see it, inhaling the comforting scent of Kili’s hair.

“No, he wasn’t.” Thorin’s voice is thick and raspy and her brother’s tears undo her once more.

~

Dis forces herself out of bed for Vili’s funeral. Balin stays behind with Kili, while Fili insists on coming with them and Dis won’t deny him his last goodbye to his father. And so they walk through the village, Dis carrying Fili (something he only allows anymore when truly distressed), flanked by Thorin on her right and Dwalin on her left. By the stone on the sacred clearing a large group of dwarves has assembled already. It takes conscious effort from Dis to put one foot in front of the other instead of turning around and fleeing from their pitiful gazes.

They walk to the head of the assembly where Vila is already standing, supported by Denzig, one of Vili’s friends. She looks frail, like her age has finally caught up with her, all light gone from her eyes. Momentarily Dis feels guilty for forgetting all about her dear mother-in-law, for drowning only of her own pain. Her heart has been torn apart, yes, but Vila has to bury her child after she already buried her husband. Subconsciously Dis’ holds tighter onto Fili until he grumbles in discomfort. How can Vila bear it? Dis is a princess of Durin’s line, hewn from rock and made of mithril, but if the maker takes her children from her after everything he has already taken she won’t have Vila’s strength to endure. Even mountains wither under storm and rain.

Dis feels disconnected throughout the ceremony, like her head is wrapped in cotton. The voices around her and the mournful songs are nothing more than background buzz as she stares ahead, thinking in a mad moment of hysteria that this can’t be true. It’s a nightmare because how can Vili have been there a few days ago, laughing and awake, and now he is gone? How can she believe that he’ll never walk through the door again, laughing and picking up his sons before walking over and kissing her forehead?

Looking up to the skies, so blue and unconcerned, Dis exhales slowly. She can’t allow this nightmare to drown her. If the Line of Durin has but one skill in life it is to move on. And move on she will, holding tight onto the knowledge that she will see Vili again, many years from now in the Maker’s Halls. She pushes away all thoughts of how many years lie between now and then.

~

Mahal has made his children to endure, has made them resilient like stone and fierce like the fires of the forge. But Dis is starting to think that their Maker is cruel, or has forgotten about them altogether, for he never smiles upon them. Truly, the race of dwarves is cursed, husbands and fathers taken away in ever-repeating patterns while the broken-hearted are left behind. Nobody ever tells the tales of what becomes of them. Grief and despair make no heroic tale, the putting back together of shattered lives no material for great ballads. It is ugly and arduous and not heroic at all. It is sleepless nights spent staring into the darkness, feeling small and lost. It is trying to make it through the day, even small tasks like cooking meals and mending clothes suddenly as difficult as battling a dragon. It is her oldest growing angry and her youngest growing quiet. Fili throws himself into his training with such vigour that even Dwalin grows concerned because no lad that age should push himself so beyond his limits. And while Fili fights, Kili sits still for hours, not speaking, not playing, only contemplating the world around him with a frown like he is trying to remember something that was lost.

And Dis is left to pick up the pieces, pushing down her own grief as she fights to make her boys smile again. It leaves her empty and exhausted, feeling like her insides have been scraped out, like there is nothing left but an aching head and an infected wound in her chest.

~

“No! You’re doing it all wrong!” The wooden spoon clatters to the floor, followed by the thud of Fili’s boots as he jumps from the chair he stood on. He kicks the spoon and it skids across the kitchen floor as he glares at Thorin. “You’re doing everything wrong!”

Dis is left to watch helplessly as her brother’s eyes widen in confusion while Fili seems to barely suppress his rage. Her brother couldn’t have known that Vili and Fili had their own rituals and ideas of exactly how hot chocolate needs to be made. She stands up as Thorin’s eyebrows narrow, but Fili storms out of the room before either of them manages to utter a word. The front door slams shut and Kili starts crying on top of his lungs.

“FEE!”

Standing frozen Dis feels like this is it, the breakdown she has secretly been waiting for, the point where she can’t go on anymore. She can’t split herself in half, following one upset son out into the night while consoling the other, who gets scared whenever either of them are not within his sight.

“Go, I’ll take care of Kili,” Thorin rumbles, shouldering past her and scooping a screeching Kili up into his arms. “Shhh, pup, it’s all right. Fili is just outside.”

Kili’s crying gains volume as Dis makes towards the door as well. She forces herself not to look back, even as Kili shrilly screams “MAMA!” Thorin is looking after him, he’s in good hands, while Fili is outside all by himself.

The night air envelops Dis like an ice embrace, raising goosebumps on her arms. It barely registers with her as she looks around. There is no sight of Fili, but after a moment’s hesitation she turns right and runs.

As she leaves the village behind Dis wishes she had brought a lantern and a shawl, but it seems impossible think ahead these days. The moon is hidden behind heavy clouds, so she stumbles through the dark until her eyes adjust, making out a hunched little shape sitting by Vili’s grave. Fili’s shoulders are shaking but he doesn’t make a sound. Dis wishes he would scream his pain to the high heavens like Kili does. The silence, somehow, is so much worse, so much more painful.

“Fili,” she sighs and sinks down next to him on the cold, damp ground, her heart beating painfully against her ribcage. Fili curls into an even tighter ball as she tries to pull him into her lap but no matter what Dis might not be anymore, she is still persistent. Eventually she’s got a lapful of tense, shivering dwarfling, and now Dis really is angry with herself for not thinking ahead and bringing something to wrap her son up in. When did she start lacking foresight so?

“Oh my sweetling,” she whispers, carding her fingers through his tangled hair. “Your uncle didn’t mean to upset you, love.” The little body in her arms shudders as Fili sobs openly.

“I’m sorry!” He uncurls enough to twist his little hands into the fabric of her dress, holding on tight. “i’m sorry, mama.”

“I know, sweet, I know,” Dis murmurs, resting her head atop of his and closing her eyes as her throat tightens. “Your uncles knows you didn’t mean it. You’re…you’re allowed to get upset. Just don’t run away again. I could not bear to lose you as well.”

Fili chokes on his sobs and the front of her dress is wet with his tears. She feels helpless as he convulses in her arms, thinking that she is his _mother_ , she is supposed to know what to say! But it feels like she has been unravelling for weeks, her seams too weak to hold her together anymore. Her tears are hot on her cheeks as they roll and soak into her beard and Fili’s hair.

“I’m angry too.”

Fili draws in a painful sounding breath, his exhale hot against her collarbone. “I miss him.” He sags under the words, the tension leaving his body. The devastating sadness in her sons voice is a burden that presses Dis’ shoulders down and the breath out of her lungs, but she prefers it over the anger that left her lad seeking comfort in bruises and self-destruction.

“I miss him too,” she whispers, tightening her arms around him, rocking gently as they cry. Her chest hurts and her legs go numb under her, and yet Dis feels a strange sense of relief.

“Oh what would your adad say, seeing us like this,” she huffs once they have calmed. Fili’s little fingers loosen their hold on her as he sits back, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. Reaching up with one hand he wipes her cheeks with his little thumb, his lips wobbling as he smiles.

“He’d say ‘Sometimes one needs to have a good cry, but then one needs to take a breath and smile for there is much to be merry about.’

“That’s right,” Dis’ smile in return feels shaky as she mirrors Fili’s gesture and wipes his tears away, remembering countless occasions of Vili consoling the boys about one thing or another, uttering those exact words. “That’s what he’d say. And he would pull one of his silly faces to make us laugh.”

Fili nods and frowns, before grimacing. It looks utterly ridiculous and Dis can’t help but laugh. For a second Fili looks impossibly pleased with himself and something in her chest loosens. Dis pulls a face back at him and soon enough they are laughing and crying at the same time, holding onto each other. Even as her chest aches and her sobs mingle with her laughs, Dis thinks that maybe they’ll be all right after all.

The night grows colder around them and their breath turns to fog. “I think it is time we got back. Your brother and uncle will be worried,” Dis murmurs, dropping a kiss to the top of Fili’s head and scooping him up as she staggers to her feet. While her flesh is chilled and her blood sluggish, her heart feels a little more alive, beating a little stronger and steadier.

The warmth inside the house is welcoming and even a glimpse of Kili’s red, tear-stained face before he races across the room and throws himself at her doesn’t destroy Dis’ sense of inner peace and calm.

“Mama! Fee!” Kili croaks as he burrows into her skirts. Thorin takes Fili from her without having to be asked and to Dis’ relief Fili goes willingly. He wraps his arms around Thorin’s neck and kisses his cheek. “I’m sorry, uncle,” he whispers, burrowing his face in the crook of Thorin’s neck.

“It’s all right, Fili.” Thorin shares a wary smile with her before he carries Fili back to the kitchen table. “But I think we could all use that hot chocolate now. Do you want to show me how you and your adad prepared it?”

Fili sniffs and rubs his nose before nodding, hesitantly starting to explain but quickly gaining confidence. His voice drifts off into the background as Dis bends down and lifts Kili into her arms with a groan.

“I’m sorry we worried you, my darling.” She carries him over to the hearth and sits down in her favourite chair, settling her little boy in her lap as she stretches her legs out. The warmth from the fire seems to melt the cold from her skin.

“No go ‘way,” Kili mumbles, one hand wrapping around one of her braids while he puts the thumb of the other in his mouth. It’s a habit he had outgrown already and is certainly too old to pick it up again, but Dis doesn’t have the heart to scold him. Instead she cups the back of his head with her hand and holds him close. Dis knows better than to make him a promise of never leaving, fearing that such words would curse them anew, so instead she hums softly and watches his puffy eyelids growing heavier by the second.

They drink the hot chocolate Thorin and Fili made in front of the fire in silence and then Dis takes the boys to bed, giving Thorin a grateful smile and a kiss on the cheek as he promises to clean up the kitchen. She is tired, but it’s a different kind of tired to the one she has been for weeks. It’s the kind of tired that leaves her too exhausted to think, all her remaining energy used to help the boys wash their faces, braid their hair for the night and brush their teeth, then do the same herself. By the time she has changed into her nightshirt the lads are fast asleep, curled together like kittens in her bed. Dis slides under the covers, blows out the candle on the nightstand, and is asleep before her head touches the pillow.

For the first time since Vili has returned to the stone they sleep through the night.

~

Time heals all wounds and Dis’ heart slowly scabs over. It will always be marred by thick scars, but it’s still beating, still working, and that’s what matters. At first she feels guilty every time she laughs because it feels like she shouldn’t be happy when Vili is still cold and dead beneath the stone. She’ll stop and put a hand over her lips like she can take it back, but one day Dwalin grunts: “He woulda wanted ye ta be happy and ta laugh, ye know?” and she supposes he’s right. She was angry with Vili more times than she can count because he made it impossible for her to _stay_ mad at him in the first place, always making her laugh. As opposed to Durin’s children, Vili had no inclination to melancholy and sadness.

And so Dis tries to smile and laugh more, thinking each time when a pang of guilt hits her that no, it would make her husband happy to see her smile. Fili still tells her that he misses papa and the two of them will sit in front of the hearth, often in silence, more often telling stories which Kili eagerly listens to, remembering together. It feels like they are keeping his memory alive without drowning in despair.

For a while Dis was afraid that Kili would forget his father. He is so young and stops looking for the lost person in their house after a few weeks. But then she walks in on Fili cleaning up Kili’s scraped palms, pressing a kiss to each of them and telling his brother “There, see, it’s all right now, pup” in the same way that Vili did, and knows she worries without reason. Kili hangs on their every word when they tell stories of Vili, and Fili has apparently decided to fill his father’s boots, already so alike to him in mannerism and speech, that there is no way he could ever be forgotten.

~

There never was a day when Dis didn’t feel Vili’s loss, but the years are kind to her and her lads. Thorin and Dwalin find steadier work after the dwarves of the Blue Mountains make a name for themselves and Fili and Kili grow up strong and proud. They don’t need to go hungry anymore or fear for their home, and Dis wishes the years of peace will never end.

But curse the Line of Durin’s greed and her brother’s heroic visions of taking back the Lonely Mountain. Her lads are fire and flame, eager for their own chance at fame and heroics. She can’t begrudge them, not when they grew up on tales of the mountain, not when there will never be ballads written about the Princes of Ered Luin, who went hunting and worked the forge and had an altogether common life. No, the people of her line have never been satisfied with being common, always striving for glory and recognition. There is no glory to be found in their little village. And yet Dis wishes desperately that her lads would seek it in other ways. Ways that don’t have them crossing paths with a dragon. But only great deeds will bring great glory and she knows her boys well enough to understand that they won’t have anything else.

So she let’s them go. Commissions oilskin hoods and fur-trimmed coats and sturdy boots for them so they will look like the princes they are, cost be damned. If they reclaim Erebor coin won’t matter anymore and if they don’t…well, then nothing will matter anymore. She mends their tunics and polishes heirlooms she kept locked away, belt-buckles and hairbeads. Double checks their bags once they are asleep and sneaks in extra food and extra socks because they would never think to take them. Makes them and Thorin and Dwalin swear oaths to her.

And still it feels like it’s not enough as they stand in front of their little cottage at sunrise. The lads look so fine in their new gear that Dis stares at them like a drowning woman, attempting to commit every detail to memory: Fili with his hair shining in the morning sun, so proud and regal, so much like her Vili in more ways than she can count. And Kili with his dark tresses and his easy smiles, bouncing with excitement and treating the world as his playground.

She hugs them both tightly, almost incapable of letting go.

“Please be careful,” she whispers, kissing Kili’s cheek and pulling Fili into another hug. “Please come back to me.” She is a female of Durin’s line and she has never pleaded before, but Dis would readily throw herself down on her knees in the dirt and beg night and day if it would guarantee their safety.

“We’ll be fine,” Kili laughs, seeing only and adventure and a wonderful story, forgetting that the tragic tales rarely get told.

“Mama,” Fili presses his forehead to hers and steadying hands to her shoulders. “Please don’t be sad.” He doesn’t tell her that they’ll be fine, only pulls back and smiles at her, wiping away a tear she couldn’t blink away. When has he grown so tall, when have his hands gotten bigger than hers? They used to be so small, clinging to her own.

“Whatever happens, don’t be sad. We go happily.”

Dis exhales sharply through her nose as her fingers clench uselessly at her side. She knows her son well enough to read between the lines, to know he’s telling her not to mourn them should they not come back. Giving her words of consolation before they are even gone.

“Oh Fili.” She can’t help but hug him again, her stoic lad, always so considerate and kind, breaking her heart.

Eventually they leave, laughing and waving, whistling a merry tune as they walk down the path. Dis remains alone at the door of the cottage, watching them and forcing down tears. She can cry later, she won’t allow the last impression of her lads to be blurred and swimming. Long after they have disappeared around the bend, waving at her one last time, she still stares at the horizon. When she finally turns and walks back into the house it feels as empty as her chest, cold and still and lifeless.

~

And so over a year passes and life goes on. Dis goes about her duties, goes to work and returns to a cold house. It feels like the first winter in Ered Luin, when she didn’t light a fire in Thorin’s absence, forgot to cook and to eat. This time there is no Vili knocking on her door and bringing her firewood. This time there is only silence.

Every waking moment she prays to Mahal, prays for the safety of her sons and brother. Sometimes she gets angry, reminds him of everything he has taken and how surely he doesn’t plan on taking more? Sometimes she gets desperate and weeps before she goes to sleep, telling the darkness “I have nothing else left, please don’t take them from me.” Sometimes she sits and turns the fourth hairclasp over and over in her hands, her fingers mapping out the etchings on it, and thinks of what could have been. Weaves illustrious visions of a life in which Vili stays with them, in which she has a daughter. She thinks of what the lass would look like, what she would’ve named her. Thinks of how proud Vili would’ve been to show her off, how protective over her the lads would’ve been. She falls asleep on those days and dreams of childish laughter and meadows in the springtime, of braiding ribbons in dark hair. When she wakes up she’s disoriented and almost throws up when she realises that it was a dream and that her lads are still out there in the cold.

For over a year Dis, daughter of Frey, merely exists, much like a ghost would, floating through the world in indifference. Until the day a raven pecks on the kitchen window while Dis is drinking her morning tea. She pushes over the cup in her haste to get to the window, barely noticing the trembling of her hands as she takes the letter. It bears the crest of Erebor and for a second she dares hoping, her heart fluttering in her chest.

The runes are neat and straight, but immediately recognising them as Balin’s, Dis’ fingers tighten on the parchment. They wanted to tell her in person and Dwalin is already on the way back to Ered Luin, but Balin didn’t want to risk her hearing it from anybody else before his brother arrives.

The ground sways beneath Dis’ feet and she sits down on the floor. She doesn’t cry as she reads the rest, and for long moments it feels like a dream as the words sink in. They have reclaimed the mountain at a horrible price.

Her brother is dead.

Her sons are dead.

The parchment falls from numb fingers as Dis stares unseeingly at the floor.

Everyone is dead.

She’s alone in this world now.

Time stops after that as Dis sits and stares while the sun travels across the sky. She is cold and numb when she finally comes to again, wondering for a second if there is even a point in getting up. Her life is pointless, why go on? And yet she is of Durin’s line, so she struggles to her feet and leans against the table, relearning how to breathe. As soon as she can draw air into her lungs again she screams and swipes the crockery from the table, bowls and plates and cups clattering to the floor. She screams in rage and in pain until she can scream no more. Then she sits down among the broken pieces on the floor, for that’s where she belongs. Among the broken things.

Hours - or is it days? She can’t tell - later as Dis lies in bed she thinks that maybe it is her fate to be the last of her line, simply because the Maker is afraid of her wrath. For alongside all the sorrow she houses in her heart, there is also a great amount of anger for everything that has been taken from her, for the curse bestowed upon everyone she loved. Once the maker calls her home she’ll give him a piece of her mind about it, along with a broken nose. And then she’ll punch her silly lads for breaking their promises.

 

 

 

 

**_Epilogue_ **

“Dis!”

Her fist connects painfully with bone and there is a satisfying _crack_ , making Dis wonder if bones heal quickly in the afterlife. She hopes they don’t, watching with gratification as blood spurts from her brother’s nose.

“Told you to stand back,” A voice points out with barely contained glee. “Vili, I got so much respect for you marrying her. I mean, she can be a right dragon,” it continues and when Dis turns to look for the speaker her heart beats faster. Frerin is smiling at her, wide and happy, with his eyes full of mischief. He looks exactly the same as he did the last time she saw him. Thorin, who’s still holding his bleeding nose, on the other hand looks like the years have been stripped away from him. His bulk reduced Dis thinks that he looks like he did shortly before the dragon came.

She’s still breathing hard, looking around with a growing sense of lightness. There to Frerin’s right is Vili, beaming at her while her lads pretend to hide behind him. It works for Fili, but Kili is too tall.

“Is she going to punch us as well?” Kili asks, peering over his brother’s shoulder.

Before anyone can answer Dis steps around Thorin, who’s still blinking in disbelief, and pulls a squawking Kili into a bone-crushing hug. She’s crying and for the first time in her life they are tears of happiness. She blindly grabs and hugs whoever is close, her senses flooded with too many sensations at once. Strong arms settle around her and Vili’s comforting scent fills her nose, still the same as she remembers. Smoke and leather and something earthy, like grass after rain.

“It’s all right now, lass,” he murmurs, rubbing her back. He’s warm and real and part of Dis is terrified that this is a dream.

“It’s all right, we’ve got you. All is well now.”

Shuddering an inhale Dis lifts her head, blinking at her husband. Her fingertips ghost over his brows and down his strong nose, over his moustache braids and the stubble of his beard. “This is real?” She needs the reassurance, needs to hear it from him because Vili never lied to her, not even in her dreams.

“Aye,” he nods and leans down for a kiss that’s salty with her tears.

Retching noises break the moment and Dis pulls back, expecting Kili to flap about dramatically and accuse them of traumatising him. Instead it’s Frerin standing next to them, pulling a disgusted face and turning to Thorin. “Do they do this all the time?”

Her oldest brother - wisely - makes a nonsensical noise, dabbing at his nose with the sleeve of his tunic.

Frerin huffs and clearly deems Thorin a useless ally.

“Seems your brother is jealous because he wants a kiss as well,” Vili whispers, eyes sparkling. Dis glances between her husband and Frerin, laughing as she realises that under the guise of maturity the two of them are probably as bad as Fili and Kili. She can only hope that they have driven Thorin utterly mad in the past decades. He certainly deserves it.

Letting go off Vili, Dis grabs Frerin and presses a smacking kiss to his cheek, which makes her brother squirm and grouse.

“I’m too old for this! Unhand me!” Despite Frerin’s protests he squeezes her into a hug before pushing her in Fili’s and Kili’s direction. “Clearly you are sentimental. It’s best if you go and cuddle your babes.”

Grown warriors her lads might have fancied themselves when they set off for Erebor, but now they cling to her eagerly. When they were dwarflings she could easily wrap her arms around them both and hold them close. Now it is the other way round, Fili broad-shouldered and Kili tall, both of them holding her.

“We missed you, mama,” Kili whispers so that Thorin and Frerin won’t hear him. Dis smiles against her tears.

“I missed you too.”

Fili kisses her cheek before pulling back, smiling broadly at her. “The others are excited to meet you, but we thought you might want some rest before that. I know I was confused when I woke up here.”

“Confused is one way to put it,” Kili mutters, earning a slap on the head from his brother.

Dis’ hands are still shaking with nerves, but it feels like she has reached the end of her journey. After all the years of waiting her life is picking back up where it never should have been broken off, with all her family around her. While Fili and Kili squabble, Vili watching with an amused grin and Frerin egging them on, she turns to Thorin, who still stands a little to the side.

“I’m not sorry I hit you,” she says, chin jutting out.

“Nor should you be,” he replies, ducking his head. “You have every right. I deserve it and more.”

It’s the same self-depreciation that he carried himself with for most of his life and it makes Dis deflate immediately. Knowing Thorin he has spent the past decades drowning in his own guilt. He deserves absolution.

Taking a step towards him Dis takes his hand, trying to tug him closer. He’s hesitant at first but steps into her arms. Dis presses her face against his neck like she always did. After a few seconds he puts hesitant arms around her.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are,” she murmurs, squeezing him a little tighter. “But the past doesn’t matter anymore now, and I still love you, my silly brother.”

Thorin makes a choked noise as his arms tighten around her and his head bows. She can feel the light tremors running through him and holds on tighter.

“I think they need a moment,” Frerin’s voice rings out and Thorin’s exhale sounds more like a chuckle than a sob this time. “We better go, I don’t wanna see this. Thorin’s a big sap. Cries like a babe if you so much as kick him. Did I tell you about the time I stole his wooden sword and when he couldn’t get it back he started to bawl like an elfling?” Frerin’s voice fades as they walk away.

“I was twelve. And they were tears of anger,” Thorin huffs. “In case I didn’t mention it, our brother is still an insufferable brat.”

“Which brother do you mean?” Dis asks as she pulls back with an amused grin. Thorin pulls a face but shrugs, like he knows he has no ground to stand on.

Pushing up onto her tiptoes, Dis kisses Thorin’s cheek. “You look well.”

Thorin looks away, never having been good at dealing with compliments. “I…apparently we return to how we looked when we were happiest in life. Otherwise there’d be a lot of old dwarves shuffling about,” he mumbles and suddenly it’s easy for Dis to put words to his change. He looks lighter, without the weight of the mountain on his shoulders. He looks at peace.

“Bilbo would be glad to know that your mind has found rest after all,” Dis says thoughtfully, raising an eyebrow when Thorin splutters.

“You’ve met Bilbo?”

“Yes of course I have,” she sniffs. “I lived in the Shire for a few years.”

For a few seconds Thorin’s mouth works without him producing a single sound before he composes himself. “Clearly we have a lot to talk about.”

“Aye, that we do. Now, do we have a house here? Or how does this work? I would very much like to sit down and have a cup of tea with my family,” Dis smiles.

“That can be arranged.” Thorin takes her hand and together they walk down a corridor, the lanterns on the walls glowing brighter and brighter. Dis thinks of it as a sign.

Their cursed past lies behind them. Holding tightly onto her brother’s hand, hearing her lads laugh a little way ahead, she steps into a brighter future.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this story and I'd love to hear your thoughts on it :) 
> 
> You can find me [here](http://www.kopperblaze.tumblr.com) on Tumblr. I'm posting fanfic previews every now and then and I take prompts :D Come say hi.


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